When possible, turn around
by Henchwoman
Summary: Trust assures you that love is no dead end. That loyalty is no one-way street. But when things take a wrong turn, it's time for a change of course. For Gokudera that's a new job, and for Yamamoto family counseling – Vongola style. Nearly TYL again .
1. Chapter 1

**When possible, turn around**

Summary:

Trust assures you that love is no dead end. That loyalty is no one-way street. But when things take a wrong turn, it's time for a change of course. For Gokudera that's a new job, and for Yamamoto family counseling – Vongola style. Nearly TYL (again).

**Disclaimer and warnings:**

**1) Me no own. **Be it 'Reborn!' or anything else I might quote or use as a requisite.

**2) Me no native English-speaking. **But don't be afraid - the text is in safe hands with my beta reader, the wonderful RainbowMushroom. Once more, thank you very much!

**3) Me no care. **Cause the Voices kept insisting. And don't you ever argue with the Voices! Or at least wear a clearly visible headset; that will spare you many funny looks...

**4) BL, Shonen-ai, Yaoi, **the like, we'll see what fits in the end** - don't like, dont't read.**

(Wikipedia-san says: Yaoi = "**Ya**ma nashi, **o**chi nashi, **i**mi nashi - No climax, no point, no meaning". Relaxing job definition for the author, hm?)

**5) AU:** Does not include the Inheritance Ceremony Arc or anything following it. All those changes...Oh, I liked most of those changes, like that very stylish Vongola Gear (except for Armamento Completo Daemon – this one looks like a walking swiss army knife). But as for props in a story, rings and boxes are easier to handle. And what if, for example, Yamamoto's chin received the scarring wound while I'm still writing? My whole plot would collapse!

So Uri's out of the Vongola Box Ring and back in the box – perhaps dreaming of Schrödinger. Fortunately, this series already established parallel universes.

**6) **_**Italics**_** within direct speech: **Foreign word or language.

Chapter 1 - Ignorance is bliss

[Italian mainland, Campania. May.]

One particular manor sat peacefully in its impressive yard - impressive for several reasons. The sheer expanse of green in this heavily populated area delighted the eye and made more than a few observers calculate the real estate price. Similarly impressive was the craftsmanship of the gardeners who maintained such an elaborately designed landscape. Charred, shredded or mutilated plants (some of the residents and their visitors were... temperamental) were rarely found, for they would instantly be covered up, nursed back to health or mercifully released and swiftly replaced.

Therefore, the window of a certain mafia boss' office presented him a most calming view as he wondered if the Ninth was finally back at the Vongola ancestral seat in Sicily. Although Tsuna was happy that his predecessor had taken a well-deserved holiday (he had looked much more healthy on the picture postcard, despite the atrocious aloha shirt), the current political situation inside the mafia did not bode well with the young man.

His approach to an all-out upheaval of the Vongola affairs - slowly but surely back to the vigilante-roots - had not exactly been met with approval from many of the allied families. So the message that the ever-trustworthy Vongola Nono would be supporting the actions of the x-factor Vongola Decimo couldn't be stressed too insistently.

But a look through the window, where Hibird provided the scenery with yellow fluffiness and general mollification, reminded the worried Mafioso that allies like the Cavallone had already helped a great deal. As did the Bovino and the Tomaso, of course! And the intelligence reports on Byakuran were really encouraging - who would have thought, that all it took was a simple-

**BangbangbangbangBOOM**

Tsuna sighed. "Lambo?" His office bo-, urh, his top-hitman-for-very-special-missions (i.e. most of the times unengaged and therefore at call) looked up from 'Killer Cows'. "That sounded like it came from the foyer - check up on it, please. Take your time, so they have at least five minutes to straighten it up and another five to weave an appropriate story".

Lambo gave a lazy grin, marked his page, put the book aside and left, thus giving his boss an opportunity to have a rushed look at a cow-printed wish list.

"Only a few more days to his forteenth birthday, and he delivers this now! Heavens, fourteen! Won't be much longer till we have frequent visits from Baby Lambo. Note to self: Always keep a bag of grape candies and my antidote for Poison Cooking ready. Good thing that Bianchi stayed with us to watch him grow up and got used to his looks. Wait, Gokudera-kun made an enquiry with the Bovino lab about the delivery date of the bazooka back then. Where did I...

"Wait. _Four_ shots from Reborn's CZ 75 and _one_ explosion _afterwards_?!" Another sigh and a shrug. "Oh well, since Reborn became an adult again and Gokudera-kun quit smoking six weeks ago, things take getting used to."

o-o-o

Ten minutes later

In Tsuna's office shone Yamamoto's smile no. 4 - 'I don't like it, you won't like it, but that's how it is'.

Another fifteen minutes later Tsuna recapitulated.

"So, for 'unimportant' reasons the foyer needs 'a bit of plaster', Giotto's red circle is 'slightly damaged', that sun-mended (I know onii-san's first aid when I see it!) patches on your face are 'nothing', Reborn is still in the ward and Gokudera-kun is not available. Did I forget something? Did _you_ forget something?! Yamamoto, I need the whole story, and you know it! So tell me, from the very beginning!"

His Rain Guardian gulped. The very beginning... that would be one month ago, the day after his birthday...

_"No! 'cuz I'm not gay! Uhm, sorry, Gokudera..." _

_Apparently, battle reflexes to overcome shock worked with unexpected declarations of love, too. The answer had left his mouth before consulting the brain - every time before ('But those were_ _girls__!') he had at least thought about some nice words to let them down. Not that he rebuffed every single approach - in a country where even politely greeting a woman included touching and kissing, Yamamoto Takeshi had become quite the ladies' man. A nice evening, a very nice night and a nice _addio_ the morning after - no complaints until now... _

_Oh drat! Something so harsh from him, to a feared fighter who didn't do well with rejection! Slightly panicked, he looked at Gokudera. The Storm Guardian took a deep breath, held it for a moment with unreadable face, then let it out again with his best business-smile. Tsuna had once joked that this smile was just the excess smiling-rays from Takeshi, collecting on Gokudera's face over the years, although he did immediately prohibit his Guardians from revealing this to his Right Hand.__That new smile (along with anger management training) was too beneficial in negotiations to risk losing. Knowing all this, the smile did nothing to reassure the Rain Guardian. _

_"It's alright. I told you without any expectations - just to get it off my chest. Please forget about it. I would appreciate if we could continue being friends. And if you could not tell anybody?"_

_Takeshi heaved a sigh of relief and smiled brightly. "Not a single word! And of course we're friends, just like before!"_

_o-o-o_

_But nothing was like before. He couldn't forget, try as he might, although Gokudera did his best to act natural and like before. But a lot of things that were natural before... just weren't any more. Sitting next to each other, throwing an arm around the other's shoulder, sharing things, touching accidentally or simply addressing the other. Yes - hearing his own name (no more 'baseball idiot') or saying the other's made him feel uncomfortable. But avoiding all this felt unnatural and uncomfortable too. And even worse, he grew conscious of the Storm Guardian's efforts to ease those situations and to act unaffected - which only resulted in Takeshi's growing uneasiness. Uneasiness that he wanted to blame the other for, but his conscience revolted and thus added remorse to the entire unpleasantness._

_Oh yes, his conscience - couldn't it differentiate between 'heartbroken' and 'newly ex-smoker'? Not every case of sleep disturbance, trembling, lack of concentration in meetings and so on had to be his fault - withdrawal symptoms, hello? And this whispering, how difficult that confession must have been for someone that occlusive - did anyone torture him for that piece of information?_

_So he tried distance in their spare time, causing increased punctiliousness during working hours. And there was really no reason to barge in on the multiplying quarrels between cranky ex-smokers and suddenly grown-up tutors as a supporting friend - an adult Right Hand surely wouldn't like such intrusions, while roaring about sapping, bullying and mobbing - if that even was what the rapid bursts of Italian were about (Takeshi still wasn't that fluent in it). _

_o-o-o_

_So came today. _

_It had appeared to be a nice day, even if senpai had tried to lecture him during breakfast. Something about how a stupid spat between friends could split a team TO THE EXTREME. Might have been related to Bianchi (chaperone for the sake of female guests, since there was no lady of the house yet) leaving the table as soon as Takeshi entered the kitchen. Without touching anyone else's food, so why the fuss? And anyway, she was most likely just eager to prey upon Reborn and get him to __declare his undying love for her__..._

_The athletes had a healthy breakfast and a rambling conversation. Senpai was missing Kurokawa - who was studying international law – more than usual because he had just received an airmail letter from her this morning. The Rain Guardian narrowly escaped a dramatic reading of her descriptions of fondness and day-to-day life, and headed for the yard to train beneath the cloudless Italian sky. But before he even left the building, a dreaded voice called his name._

_"Yamamoto!"_

_'Crud!' Perhaps he could just walk on, pretend to-_

_"Rain!"_

_'Ah. Business.' He turned, the usual smile in place. "_Sotto Capo?_" (The term for 'underboss' was one of the first Italian phrases he had learned - only because it was really easy to pronounce __and__ came in handy for a Japanese mafioso.)_

_"It's about your next few missions. Originally, you were partnered with me on those. I'm guessing you will not disagree if I change the arrangements."_

_'Don't show relief!' With a smile, "Sure, but why change them? We work well together."_

_"We __did__ work well together. Currently we don't. Because you flinch whenever you see or hear me, and you hesitate when I call out to you. Awkward at least, ludicrous in negotiations and probably lethal in battle. Any objections?"_

_Relief and smile forgotten, Takeshi looked straight at Gokudera's face for the first time for days, feeling only ... strangeness. Harsh, analysing, straightforward, unsmiling - just like at the time when they first met. Just what made the girls surge into his fan club back then. Why did it feel strange now? _

_But before he could answer either the Italian's question or his own, another voice barged in._

_"Forget it!"_

_Over the other's shoulder ('That's strange, too. Why doesn't he look behind? And what's with the face?') Takeshi saw Reborn, casually leaning against a pedestal that bore the mandatory vase. _

_"What did you say, Reborn...-san?" Finally turning around to face the world's greatest hitman, the voice of Bianchi's brother held more poison than her cooking ever had. _

_Taken by surprise, the Japanese stepped aside to keep an eye on both opponents - wait, opponents?!_

_"I told you to forget about those changes."_

_Carefully unclenching his teeth and taking the Right-Hand-Man-Stance__(TM)__ apparently helped to make the answer sound formal and almost civil. "Maintenance of the duty roster is my commission, not yours. It is courtesy if I ask the Guardian in question for his or her consent, but only the Tenth's approval is necessary."_

_"That's why you already put this changed roster on Tsuna's table. But he does not approve. On the contrary! His orders are to drill you two back to teamwork. Two weeks together at this cosy Cavallone weekend house seem like a good start to him."_

_Takeshi opened his mouth to protest - and closed it again. For this déjà vu. _

_It had to be a déjà vu; why else should something as trivial as a choleric taking a deep, calming breath and holding it for a moment __before slowly exhaling__ seem so significant? Even more with this blank fac-_

_"I quit"._

_The next exchange was lightning-fast, even by the standards of a highly skilled swordsman and baseball-player:_

_With his words still ringing, Gokudera made eye contact with Vongola's grey eminence, took off the Storm Ring and threw it ('Wow, a really low drop ball!') at Reborn, who caught it. While the brim of his fedora partly covered the catcher's range of vision, the pitcher yelled "Double bombs!" - but released the triple bombs! Well, this seasoned catcher, urh, hitman was not taken by surprise and drew his pistol to sever all the fuses with four shots in 1.3 seconds. Precisely the timeframe in which a crafty pyrotechnist could press a button at his watch and duck. Which he did._

_**BOOM**_

_o-o-o_

_It took the world a few moments to stop being so darn loud and bright and full of flying bits. The first percolating sound was a string of profanities, slowly turning into recognizable sentences full of loathing. _

_"...your wish, you sordid old fart. Good riddance! But keep in mind that the bigger they fucking are, the easier they are to hit."_

_Okay, damage report: Himself lying on the floor, apparently unscathed. The foyer full of smoke (already clearing), but visibly worse for wear. One person standing in sight, talking - Gokudera. Talking to someone on the floor. Someone prone motionless nearby the ruin of a pedestal. _

_What?! _

_The standing figure turned to leave when a glint among the debris,__close by the likewise motionless Leon, caught the observer's eye, making him bang up and talk._

_"Won't you pick up your Ring?"_

_The other stopped, then turned around. Serpentine eyes - smoky green, hard and cold - scrutinized him._

_"No. 'cuz I just quit. Bye, Yamamoto."_

_'Quit. Quit what? Smo- Oh God! He's leaving?! Just because of this fight? No, that alone won't do. What else...? Me. He's leaving because of me! No! I didn't want to-'_

_His thoughts must have been displayed on his face in a most graphic way - Gokudera's expression softened and he headed back._

_"No. Listen to me! I never lied to spare your feelings, right? So believe me now: It's not you! Got that?"_

_"But what...?"_

_"You heard this order just now? Did you sense any fear of consequences when that pompous asshole spoke in the Ten- ... his boss' name? Either the head of Vongola doesn't care anymore, or turned plain cruel, to issue this order. Or he doesn't dare to control Reborn and suchlike. I tried to talk to him, but got put off and shooed away __for months. Either way, this is not the family I wanted to help building anymore. So I draw the conclusions. Put simply: I drop out of the 'Mafia-Game' to find myself a new game, because my constant losing tells me I suck at this one." _

_"So you just run away again?" _

_A short pause, then an ugly smile. "You'll understand soon enough. Just hope they don't send __you__". The unbefitting smile disappeared when Gokudera leaned in closer to inspect his face. _

_"Sorry for those cuts - stone shrapnel."_

_'Cuts?' Takeshi perceived something like very far away soreness around his facial muscles and vaguely recognized that shock was blocking the pain, but forgot about it when somehow the inspection ended with a short, tender peck on __the corner of his mouth__. _

_"Farewell, baseball idiot."_

_With this words the former Right Hand Man turned, walked through the main gate and stopped a last time to drop his boxes. _

_"Oh, not that this is my concern anymore, but Uri is roaming around somewhere. Good luck to those who have to put him back into the box."_

_And he left._

A/N:

Giotto's red circle: Not Vongola Primo, but Giotto di Bondone. To demonstrate his skill, it is said, he drew a perfect circle in red paint – freehand.

Serpentine: A mineral group. Different colours are available, but green seems to be the norm. A few weeks ago I saw a bracelet containing serpentines of exactly that grey-green...

And yes, Reborn always is the man with the plan, but sometimes I really feel like whacking him.

_"_A well rounded critique is often the most rewarding gift a reader can give . Please use this golden opportunity to offer a well deserved praise and/or tips for improvement._" - _these words are from the review window. Don't believe it? Click that button down there and read for yourself!


	2. Chapter 2

Things I don't own: KHR and 'Wind of Change' by the Scorpions.

Chapter 2 - Wind of change

While listening to Yamamoto's report, Tsuna repeatedly changed colour, but interjected only three times: "Ouch" (bashful pink), "My orders be WHAT?" (wrathful red) and "Oh my" (plain snow white).

After the story clearly had come to an end, he took the liberty of mentally slapping an assortment of people, including himself. Then he looked at the image of a puppy soaked with rain (eyes telling of bewilderment, the craving for someone to make the world warm and cozy again and, of course, the complete innocence concerning the mud all over the carpet) in front of his desk, sighed and took action.

"He left about an hour ago? Merely searching will now be pointless. LAMBO!"

The door opened wide enough for the Bovino to squint at his boss.

"Fetch all Guardians plus Reborn, Bianchi and Shamal. You won't find Gokudera-kun. Meeting in the conference room - ASAP!"

"Uhm. _All_ Guardians?"

"Didn't I just- ? Oh. Of course. I'll call Hibari-san, you get everyone else."

The door closed behind a relieved Thunder Guardian. The ever-responsible Sky stalled a bit by explaining, "He's just edgy, you know – what he calls 'herding together' is 'reserved' by local standard," before he picked up the phone, steeled himself and dialled.

"Hibari-san? I'm sorry to inconvenience you, but we need you here for a meeting."

"_Listen, Sawada Tsunayoshi, I don't tolerate-"_

And here Tsuna snapped. "No, you'll listen, Hibari Kyoya! This is a crisis meeting and you will be there! The conference room, in twenty minutes!" With this he hung up. And only just managed to stifle a 'hiiii!'.

An awed Yamamoto poured him some water.

"Whoaaah! Tsuna, that was just ... WOW... er, dangerous?"

"No. He will be here in ten minutes tops, to bite me to death. When everyone else will be assembled, I hope. So he will stop for a moment to adapt his attack, and in this moment I have to make clear the particular importance of this, hn, crowding and his attendance. And the topic 'Reborn went too far this time - bite him to death' should catch his interest. Now let's go. In fact, let's run!"

While they hurried out, a sound of late realization was heard.

"So, it was not your order. And you're mad at Reborn. But you're not surprised. Neither at Reborn nor at Gokudera."

"I'm deeply distressed. But not surprised, that's right. It's true, Gokudera-kun told me about Reborn's interferences on several occasions, and it's just as true that I did nothing to put a stop to them. I didn't want to believe it were that bad - just strained nerves. A tempest in a teapot. Hah! I didn't listen to my Right Hand, didn't dare to fight for him, and so I screwed up as the Tenth. Badly!"

"And his ... orientation?"

"Huh? Oh, no surprise, either. He told me a couple of years ago. When I had to officially nominate my Right Hand Man. The day before, he seriously asked me to reconsider, because he felt that he might be seen 'unfit', and that there might be a toehold for extortion later on if he kept me in the dark, and he couldn't endure to bring 'disgrace' on me and the Vongola... you know him. Of course I adhered to my decision - Gokudera-kun is the best one for this post! And then he had to be talked into accepting it. That was ... surreal. Anyways, after a long discussion he yielded."

"Long discussion? He wanted to disobey his Tenth' order?" Yamamoto's tone wavered between amused and incredulous.

"He wanted to take a vow of chastity. The actual discussion started after that; it centred on persuading him of simple discretion, and finding a definition of it that allowed him a life and some fun." Had Yamamoto been willing to, he might have been able to hear the strain in Tsuna's offhand tone – a memento of that long night, when pride was all that sustained his most loyal Guardian. Pride and trust in his Tenth.

"Good morning, boss". Low-key as always, the Mist Guardian seemed to fade into existence as they reached the right hallway.

"Morning, Chrome. You look excited. What's the matter?"

Chrome smiled. "An explosion and an urgent call for a meeting? Mukuro-sama is really curious ... and I am, too."

"Oh, that. Er, we might have problems with Hibari-san when he arrives, and I don't have time for sparring today. Could you prepare something?"

"Of course, boss. Something to slow him down, that doesn't hurt his pride, hm? Tricky, but I'm just refining some techniques. One might work here."

The Vongola boss sighed in relieve. A "might work" from Chrome was a reliable Plan A for him. So he entered the room, took his place and greeted each of his arriving family in an almost confident mood.

A minor drama took place when Bianchi audibly ran into Reborn outside the door. A hearty double _smack_ and a torrent of Italian curses worthy of her brother (who seemed to be the topic, Tsuna deduced from comprehensible words like _fratello_ or _pene amorose_) attested some serious trouble in paradise. And when she stormed into the room she arranged it so that Shamal, _Shamal_ of all people, sat between her and the normally adored, currently ignored hitman that now was sporting angry red handprints on his cheeks. Well, at least she didn't attempt murder and he allowed himself to be hit – good signs, for different reasons. But before the may-be-lovers' quarrel could cause comments the Cloud Guardian made a big entrance, tonfas ready-

And maintained his pose. Then he began to twitch, his eyes unblinking, while Chrome's laborious voice warned everybody "Don't comment on it later!". After a few seconds the ex-prefect blinked and strode to his regular seat on the windowsill in his usual victor's air. Still not beating anybody...

Whichever technique Chrome was using, her face made clear it wasn't over yet. So Tsuna made certain that everyone was present and addressed the meeting.

"Good morning, and thanks for coming on such short notice. You might have heard of the cause: Earlier, Gokudera-kun resigned and departed."

His voice failed him. But he closed off the worried murmur and inquiring looks, steeled himself and continued.

"This happened due to Reborn's interferences that culminated in giving offending orders, allegedly in my name. Without going into detail yet, the Vongola has to deal with two major problems.

"First point of order: We have to prevent future unauthorized assumption of authority. From now on I will issue personal orders personally - if possible, that is. If you doubt the messenger, find and ask me. At whatever time, for whatever reason. Further on, every member of my organization has to be emboldened to scrutinize dubious orders. And the one who issued the order has to sort it out! I shirked from that, and we all can see what came of it.

"Lambo! You will schedule a general meeting, where I can let all our employees know that and answer their questions."

The teenager made a note. His boss peeked at his friends' faces and saw approval (and heard a derogative snort from the windowsill, which could be counted as approval as well, coming from Hibari-san). That encouraged him to broach the difficult sub-item.

"Reborn, I release you from your duty as my tutor. You taught me a lot, and you always gave me valuable advice, so you are welcome to stay as a _consigliere_. But one more stunt like this, and you've outstayed this welcome! Now, do you have anything to say?"

"You bet I have. **ABOUT DAMN TIME**!"

That got him even Bianchi's attention. And he continued like, well, a weary but successful tutor, whose pupil finally understands the quadratic formula.

"I spent one quarter of this year belittling Gokudera's methods, questioning his authority in front of his subordinates, countermanding his orders and generally ridiculing him – implying your approval with increasing frequency. I started wondering if I had to kill a family member so that you would act like the Head of the Vongola instead of no-good-Tsuna!

"You are supposed to be the boss – but a boy who lets himself be pushed around by his tutor is not a boss. That's why my arrangement with Timoteo was that only you could cancel the contract. The parting token of your tutor is a last lesson: You are the boss, so take care of those who take care of you! You can't afford to lose even a single one of them. And as arrival gift from you new advisor, here comes some trivial advice:

"Firstly, it's fine to delegate and leave some work to your subordinates. But too much of that isolates you from your basis and leaves you vulnerable.

"Secondly, you won Gokudera's loyalty in five minutes – literally – and kept it for nine years. Didn't he trust you with his deepest secrets if you so much as looked questioningly? And you lost that trust in less than three months – not only because of my sabotage, but also because of your own ignorance and spinelessness. Devotion is, figuratively, a powerful and frugal flame, but it needs to be fuelled nonetheless.

"Thirdly, attacks from outside did bind your _famiglia_ together, but attacks from inside can break all bonds and destroy you. So, blind faith in everyone around you is not the best of policies."

Reborn paused to give his former pupil an opportunity to respond, but found him and most of the attendees stunned and speechless. Most of them.

"You expect me in earnest to accept that you maltreated, bullied and chased off my dear little brother – in order to teach Tsuna some lessons? After five years of struggle, so he finally could look straight in my face again? After two months of coaching, so he could declare his love to that ingrate? After-"

"Two months, you say? So, starting three months ago? Hm, that would explain why he didn't react at all first – he was too distracted to notice. Plus, he quit smoking six weeks ago and practised Fon's meditation exercise to calm himself down; that must be reason I couldn't sense any killing intent earlier."

"And we can all guess for whom he wanted fresh breath! How can you just sit here, as cool as ice, and analyse how you plucked Hayato to pieces, you callous jerk?"

"My dear Bianchi, I'm analysing why my plan had such unexpected effects. I didn't intend to 'pluck him to pieces'. I intended to pick a strong victim to teach this lesson, because it's easier to manipulate the direction of a large force without breaking it. And I didn't expect this victim to weaken himself and learn new defences in the meantime. Furthermore I didn't expect him to mine that pedestal in case of an attempted invasion, or to release this booby trap, meant for a whole hostile unit, to get me and my chameleon shield, after his weak but disorienting fake attack left me smug. An adequate tactic, by the way!"

"Don't you dare to suck up-"

"Bianchi?" Reborn's newly-fledged ex-pupil had regained his composure and felt obliged to interrupt - mainly on account of Yamamoto's reddening face, and the fact that Shamal's leering had begun to make way for a look of discomfort and earache. "I have noticed that you, erm, still don't rail against Gokudera-kun for running away..."

A dangerously raised eyebrow let him fall silent.

"I would if he indeed ran away. But 'running away' means to cowardly flee a fight. To vanish after resignation from the post as underboss is what I would call 'common sense'."

When Tsuna failed to show comprehension, a bored voice from the window spoke up. "What do you think happens in normal - that is, carnivorous - mafia or yakuza gangs when the second-in-command takes his leave?"

And the Poison Scorpion mercilessly continued, "The boss will order the execution of the traitor so he can't sing out. _Omertà_. And Hayato apparently neither trusted himself any more to know your mindset, nor wanted one of his friends as his would-be executioner. Meltdown, I'd guess. But he was severely injured, from many wounds and several hands – that tends to cloud a person's judgement".

Strangely enough, the first one to speak after that was Yamamoto. "Heavens! That's what he meant?" Unwilling to attract even more of Bianchi's attention he sank deeper into his chair. No, it wasn't his finest hour as 'a blessed shower that settles conflict and washes everything away'. But at least he had bought Tsuna some time to compose himself.

"Okay. Not okay, that is. Hopefully you all know that I will never order something like that! What we have here is a serious case of misjudgement, but nothing that can't be resolved when we find Gokudera-kun-"

"If you ever find him." Typically, Shamal's first interjection was pessimistic and discouraging. "Even if he comes to his senses, Hayato will not return of his own accord to a homestead of failure and humiliation. Remember, he still has to meet his father, and their misunderstanding is long resolved. No, he will disappear – very thoroughly disappear. He was already skilled in it as a child."

Tsuna sighed. "Second point of order: I want him back. We have to find him; until then he is officially on paid vacation – in case someone inquires. Any suggestions?"

Silence.

After a few seconds the quick-thinking ones noticed that they were by force of habit waiting for the voice of the Right Hand, who usually would speak up on cue to outline a preliminary master plan.

Damn!

Eventually Reborn took pity on them.

"We should start out with 'What do we know?'. Chrome?"

"Um, can't we trace the Storm Ring?" Multitasking was clearly difficult for her at the moment.

"No, he left it. Lambo?"

"He drove away with one of our cars. But at that time no gate guard deemed it important to mind the direction he took at the fork. We should search for the car. Oh, and 'paid vacation': We could monitor his account activity, set a computer trap for withdrawals – he will need money, after all."

Reborn looked somewhat surprised. "Well done. Your decision - Tenth?"

"Come again? Err, the car is okay, but no tracing his money. He would notice and be scared off even more."

"Understood. Shamal?"

"He is paranoid – strictly non-medical speaking. Remember when you all got a fake identity plus ID card, in case of emergency? Hayato placed the collective order and requested at least three more for himself. And worked it so that he could inscribe his own IDs. Not even the forger might know the names or details. And don't offer to buy them – old Imbianco lives up to his reputation as one who keeps silent."

"Right, he is- yes, Ryohei?"

"What was his hair colour in the photos?"

"Sorry? His ... hair colour?"

"Well, sure! Octopus-head explained 'camouflage' to me once. Said I should use hair tint or rinse, if I ever had to go into hiding. Should store it together with the ID in an emergency kit. And that I mustn't forget the brows."

"Say, onii-san ... how is it that you remember this? No offence, but you forgot things that were more important." Murmured agreement rose around the table.

"He shocked me TO THE EXTREME when I bumped into him last Saturday – dark hair and dressed to kill! Er, not to kill, you know – to pick up! Took him for an intruder first! He babbled something about 'discretion', 'clubbing incognito' and concealing eye-catching hair colour."

Tsuna avoided looking at his Rain Guardian. "Yes, one of his rare weekends off. Gokudera-kun usually would leave Saturday evening for Rome or Naples and be back sometime the next morning. You said 'emergency kit'... did-"

But Yamamoto wouldn't leave it well alone. "'Usually'? Is that why the night guards for Saturdays are always from the Storm division?"

"Yes, it is. But this is not the case in point." Being called 'Tenth' by Reborn did wonders for one's authority. "This emergency kit – do we know something about it? Doctor Shamal?"

"Oh, it might contain everything necessary: a standard travel kit plus money, weapons, fake ID and, yes, perhaps hair tint. And it surely was not stored in some hollow tree trunk next to our front entrance. Maybe in a locker at a station or in a safe deposit box."

"In Rome or Naples, maybe?" A certain swordsman obviously was peeved enough to ignore Bianchi's venomous look.

Shamal decided to be unimpressed by both and to get back on topic, "Maybe. In both cities he can pick among numerous means of travel."

"Travel to where?" (This question no longer signalled no-good-Tsuna's despair, Reborn noticed approvingly, but Vongola Decimo taking charge and requesting answers) "Bianchi? You two talked a lot these last weeks. Did he mention any holiday destinations?"

"No. We discussed... other topics. What I can tell you is only, that he is fluent in quite a few languages – European and Asian. But you knew this already, because he studied them for business purposes. So he is free to leave Italy inconspicuously, wherever he plans to go. And he will leave this country to slip out of the mafia's network – of course he won't even think of working for another _famiglia_. Otherwise I can tell you only this: The name in his pass will neither be 'Gokudera Hayato' nor the Italian name our father did register in the birth certificate. Concerning his dark 'camouflage': We know about it, and he knows that we know. Consequently, one could expect a normal fugitive to not use it. But since he likewise knows this, he could use it just so. And as I don't dare to guess at which point his 'I know that they know that I know'-line of thought did lead to a conclusion, we might as well flip a coin concerning his hair colour."

"Thank you, that was... not really helpful. Other thoughts? Hi- Hibari-san?"

Prefaced by a yawn came the contribution "You can always offer a reward for information."

"What? Are you cra-..., err, aware that this would send the completely wrong message, first of all to Gokudera-kun? And how would it look if every miserable pickpocket knew that Vongola is short of a Right Hand Man?"

Reborn looked very pleased. "That's the way of political thinking you need for this post - you're making progress! So, does anybody have any ideas for now?"

When no-one spoke Tsuna continued, "Please think about it. Every little detail could be useful. Come and tell me, whenever you can think of a hint or an idea. I will search his quarters for some hint, together with one of the Storm division – after I interrogate all of them. And you will ask your own divisions – Bianchi, could you cover the staff? Someone might have seen or heard something. And perhaps... Why not – Lambo, you will google daily! Explosions, Gokudera-kun's personal description, the news, inscriptions on UMA-sites, whatever you or any of us can think of. Make a list. Then there is-"

Plainly audible, the Cloud Guardian left through the now open window – again without beating anyone up. A compromise the Sky wholeheartedly agreed to.

"Thank you, Chrome. Would you please stay for a moment after this meeting? Yamamoto, you too?" When both Guardians indicated their agreement he continued, "There is one last problem. We have a fully grown Storm Leopard prowling around the estate. Anyone in for a workout?"

o-o-o

After some last thoughts were shared and the Uri matter was firmly not mentioned, most attendees left to get to work and left the Sky, Mist and Rain behind.

Tsuna first turned to Chrome. His weary mien changed into an honest smile of praise.

"_Bravissima_! I'm speechless! How did you do it? I'm dying to know what happened!"

The past years had taught her to accept compliments on hard work well done with grace.

"Thank you, boss. We call it _sogno nebbioso –_ 'misty dream'. The victim sees what he expects to see, what he thinks has to happen - including his own participation - only in his mind's eye, weaving that, hm, 'appearance' himself. That is easy. The hard part is for me to slowly merge- no, convince him to merge his 'dream' with the 'appearance' of reality during the dream. It's important to avoid revealing contradictions in the aftermath, but I can't meddle, for I don't see the dream.

"If I know him at all, earlier Hibari experienced bludgeoning all of us and emerging unharmed. But I had to moderate his imagination at that, because later on, the picture of us, defeated and injured, must not show any permanent damages. Bruises yes, because those can fade very fast, but nothing lasting. If he for example remembered ripping somebody's ear off and met that person later today with both ears, he would become undeceived and-, well, it wouldn't be pretty."

"But that means the victim has to stay in your range of influence for a while without suspecting any influence, right?"

"Yes, but I just have to lull his cautiousness and enhance the feeling 'This place holds no threat for me, I can rest here'. Very simple if the victim is as self-confident as Hibari. And if he stays long enough I can make the dream fade away. But if I tried to extinguish it completely he might perceive a memory gap, which would be revealing too."

"And how safe is it to assume he will not notice sometime?"

"Depends on how distrustful that person is."

"Once more, I'm deeply impressed! Thank you for the hard work."

"You're welcome, boss. If there is nothing else...?"

"Oh, no. That was it for the moment."

Chrome nodded with a smile and left to interview her – or Mukuro's, that depended – subordinates. When the door was closed Tsuna got up from his chair, stretched himself, went to the open window and let the garden view sooth him once again. Then he sat down (the windowsills weren't cushioned only for Hibari's sake) and motioned Yamamoto to do the same. After a look at his still standing, uncommonly tight-lipped friend he closed the soundproof window and prompted, "Spit it out, Yamamoto!".

A short struggle and the dam broke.

"Bianchi says it's my fault! Is it no longer allowed to say 'No'? And if it was me, then he lied! Why should he lie? And besides, how could I have guessed? He always had some beautiful women accompanying him at formal receptions! And anyway, I didn't ask for him to fall for me!"

Tsuna didn't try to stop the torrent. Instead he let it just run out and listened carefully to everything. At last, Yamamoto fell silent.

For a little while there was only the sound of his agitated breathing. When it had calmed down, the empathetic listener carefully banished all judging from his voice.

"You asked a lot of questions today – so you want answers, and that's good. But before, I want to ask you something, too. See, all my Guardians are here for different reasons. Some are more difficult to understand than others. Hibari-san stays because he thinks of us as entertaining and the missions and research keep his interest. The fact that we officially declared his quarters branch office of Namimori Middle helped, too. Mukuro, and therefore Chrome... well, he wants something I plan to keep from him, but in the intermediate term, we have a common goal and he finds that highly amusing. Why did you join in? It's not exactly fun most of the time, and you never had any obligation towards any of us. Nevertheless, unlike your future self, you never aspired towards a career as a baseball pro. Why?"

"Because you are my friends, you and-... most of the others."

"But isn't almost everybody you ever met since preschool your friend?"

"Oh, come on! Most people I met liked me, granted. But nobody would intend to jump off the roof because of a few weeks without baseball, if he had a single friend."

"So we agree that friendship is valuable. As much more the friendship of a lone fighter like Gokudera-kun. What Bianchi said was meant for both of us, and maybe Reborn as well. And it was meant to hurt, since she herself is shocked and hurt. My guess is, her brother never wanted to denounce her lover, so the news meant some rude awakening for her.

"You know, in the book Kyoko-chan sent me for my last birthday, it was put another way: 'You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed'. Sounds a lot less reproachful than her wording, don't you think?"

Yamamoto offered a small nod, along with a faint smile. Relieved that it was not the huge smile-like mask that was used to cover up any unpleasant feelings, Tsuna continued.

"So, as a friend, will you permit me to help you?"

Another nod.

"You are still angry, and it surely isn't like you to stay angry. Besides, since we first met Gokudera-kun you pretty much were never angry with him, let alone held a grudge against him - regardless of any physical and verbal abuse. But this time it's different, and you don't like it yourself and feel self-displeased, am I right? So you have to figure out what is the source of this anger; its original target.

"To write down all your questions and everything that struck you as odd today seems a good way to start. Like 'why did his look feel strange?' or 'why should he lie?', or your unusually sharp rebuff. When you are ready, look at them every evening – no exceptions! - and think about possible answers, just for a few minutes. Then think about your answers. Perhaps they will lead to the question 'What is it that I can't forgive him for?'. Repeat this until all the answers feel right to you. In the meantime ask for help whomever you wish. The mere fact that there's someone listening to a question might help you further."

Yamamoto looked at him in complete bewilderment. "You call this help? That's more like back in cram school, when they assigned us this insoluble homework, and the baby told us it'd be more profitable for us to work for the answer than him simply telling us... Oh. This is exactly like that homework, isn't it?"

* * *

A/N:

Bianchi working to break Gokudera's see-face-be-sick-conditioning: Her TYL self seemed to be very aware of this reflex (she used it purposefully to knock him out), cared about her brother's well-being and still did not routinely conceal her face when entering the Vongola base. Just saying.

Of course you recognized Kyoko's birthday present as "The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry – which I don't own, either. For me, Gokudera bears resemblance to the fox:

_"What does that mean - 'tame'?" _

_"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. "It means to establish ties." [...]_

_The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time. "Please - tame me!" he said. "One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "If you want a friend, tame me . . . "_

_"What must I do, to tame you?" asked the little prince. _

_"You must be very patient," replied the fox. "First you will sit down at a little distance from me - like that - in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day..." _

(Guess whom I imagine as the prince in this particular scene...)


	3. Chapter 3

Things I don't own: KHR and 'Love's Not For Me' by Graham Gouldman.

What I own: Currently four OCs playing minor roles; they are not stolen, only inspired, and that makes them mine - ask George Lucas or Disney.

This chapter is dedicated to **Naliams** and **Ranma 2/3**, my first (*coughonlycough*) reviewers. Thanks for your kind words and patience! I'm very sorry for my tardiness - this evil vampire bitch called 'real life' held me in her clutches...

Chapter 3 - The path you're gonna take

[A couple of days later. Vongola mansion]

Whoever had said that it's fun to be a mafia boss?

Vongola Decimo sighed. Not him, that's for sure.

Just a week ago he had been complaining about the ridiculously large load of boring work; now he had to deal with a lot of additional tasks that he didn't even know existed – tasks that had to be performed personally by him now, because of the departure of his oh-so-efficient-and-reliable Right Hand, which was ironically also the cause of most of these additional tasks

Trying to think positively, Tsuna checked his mental 'done-already' list:

- Basil-kun, his own External Advisor, was filled in and had promised CEDEF's support.

- The foyer was cleared of the debris; although without Lambo's help, he would never have found the data of the right business account to pay the cleaning personnel.

- Local craft enterprises to restore the floor, walls, windows and so on had been picked ('Had I to read one more cost estimate to take a decision, I would have blown up the whole manor!') and instructed.

- The damaged artworks had been sent to a restorer.

- Every person living on the estate had been informed and interrogated as planned – again, Lambo had been very helpful and presented the collected duty-and-holiday rota of everybody working on the mansion. Yes, those times when he had been assigned to Gokudera-kun as an office assistant to keep him out of harm's way had unexpectedly paid off.

- Gokudera-kun's quarters and PC had been thoroughly searched.

Ah yes, but still at the top of the to-do list: Find a pointer to Gokudera-kun's whereabouts.

With the reluctant help of Bianchi and Beatrice, the Storm Guardian's adjutant, Tsuna had searched his rooms. Beatrice was a young Italian woman with hazel eyes, dark brown curls and the uncanny gift of a constantly helpless and confused appearance – to the point where she held her Glock pistol in an opponent's face and no one would be able to retrace how it got there.

Together they had checked every book, drawer, pocket, post-it, container, notebook, computer file, internet bookmark and so on for clues, only to come away empty-handed. There were dozens of hints that pointed to just as many possible ends, without any particular one of them standing out – like his textbook-collection, for example. 'Global Business Etiquette' and books on firearms and explosives were jammed together on the top bookshelf. On the next shelf they saw 'Diamonds Famous & Fatal', 'The Responsible Serving of Alcoholic Beverages', 'The Elements of Murder: A History of Poison', 'Complete Weather Resource', a 'Dictionary of Ship Types' and 'Siege Warfare in the Roman World'. These volumes were only a foretaste of what awaited them in about a dozen other shelves.

And of course, Gokudera would never leave confidential personal files on a mafia-related computer.

Just as Bianchi had put it: "This is real life, not 'Case closed in twenty minutes'. He considers a lot of things as interesting or at least useful for Vongola. And he never wanted to be a security risk".

Jeez, even the memory of that moment was painfully awkward. And the next topic, used hastily as a diversion, was still pending, too: Uri. Bianchi outright refused to catch the Storm Leopard, calling it "to betray Uri's trust" (while she probably wanted to keep him as keepsake and safety blanket). And when Beatrice had finally admitted that the Storm division should be able to capture their supervisor's box animal, she confessed this only on the condition that the Tenth would not make them do so. And since loyalty was a dominant streak in the Storm line, and the threatening conflict of loyalties made her look like a haunted little animal, this task was left to Tsuna, too. And was doomed to failure - when cornered, Uri gave him a look even more miserable and beseeching than Beatrice's, with a side order of silky fur and giant pleading eyes, and...

Well, later that day there was an internal memo, saying that a) Uri would get back in the box voluntarily when out of flame energy, b) there was no need to worry, since box animals could only move within a certain radius of their box, and c) persons with adequate flames were NOT to feed him. Yes, even you!

When Reborn entered the office with what looked like more paperwork, his boss seemed ready to surrender unconditionally.

"Please, no more! Tell me, why does it look like every bit of administrative work was done by Gokudera-kun? Don't we have an accountant or at least a secretary?"

"We had one, until New Year's Eve. You do remember the fireworks incident? The drunken guy who dropped his bottle of highly-alcoholic grappa on the terrace? Right into the case with the firework rockets?"

"Oh yes, him! We heard some glass clank, and before anyone could react, this poor guy snatched at a flambeau and shouted 'Stay back, I'll pick up the shards!'. I completely repressed that memory - funeral orations are difficult per se, but when half of mourners try to suppress their grins... So that was our accountant? But that happened months ago. Why isn't there a replacement?"

"Because each and every candidate was either a plant from some other _famiglia_, a police informer or a gambler. So, temporarily Gokudera assumed the job – along with every bit of aid the cow could be made to lend, since it had to run alongside the regular duties."

"Oh, Lambo proved to be very useful indeed, but he can't fill that position. He's still a minor, so he couldn't sign any document. And I don't want to hire any replacement right now – it would feel like I'm trying to replace Gokudera-kun."

"In that case you should find an adult assistant for Lambo. Someone who's sensible, sane and patient. Some trustworthy member of the family with some time to spare."

"And I will find this miracle ... where exactly?"

"It's been three years already. Isn't Kyoko's final examination forthcoming?"

Tsuna's face lit up. "Ah, yes! She wrote to Onii-san that she and Haru should have finished their 'sumo training' in time for Lambo's birthday – next week she should be back! 'Sumo', hah. To this day I don't know if that is a Sasagawa family code or if he still takes her repartee for real."

"Either way is better than Ryohei telling all of Italy and Japan that his little sister and her friend are training to become kunoichi."

"Oh, on the other hand, who would believe him – two cute modern girls learning ninjutsu? Really, of all the hare-brained ideas Haru ever hatched … After reading this age-old 'Tokyo Crazy Paradise'-series she fell for the concept that a mafia boss' wife or lover ought to be his most effective bodyguard. So she just resolved upon a branch of martial arts and talked Kyoko-chan into joining her! And just when I had hoped that the last living ninja were too well hidden, Hibari-san told her out of the blue that in his mother's family all girls had to complete at least the basic education in a training village and his mother could put them in contact with her old sensei." Tsuna buried his face in his palms as the memory of the next step hit him. "And then she really went through with it and kissed me, and I had to explain her that I'll never love her in that way and she started to cry. And she asked if it was Kyoko-chan. And even then she never gave up that asinine plan!"

Reborn, however, still looked as self-satisfied as ever while he petted the still recovering Leon. "Because I told her truthfully, that the Ninth, your father and I liked this plan very much and that a Vongola scholarship would pay all expenses for both of them, including a teacher for Italian in the next city."

Since the Tenth was momentarily lost for words the hitman continued pleasurably, "In our world, her plan makes absolutely sense; your wife would be protecting you out of love and is admitted to every place you go. Since there never was any danger that Haru might vent her let-down on Kyoko, both would benefit from a peer during their education and form a stronger bond. So even if Haru were to, say, marry into an allied _famiglia_, she would stay a first rate confidant for us, thus strengthening the alliance. And thanks to us she would certainly become a very 'valuable' wife, so that _famiglia_ would owe us big time. That's a win-win situation for everyone."

"Reborn, did anyone ever tell you that your way of estimating the value of people is disturbingly like a livestock producer's? Anyway, how did we get to that subject?"

"You were whining for an aide and I suggested hiring your bride. A regular procedure in any family enterprise."

Tsuna blushed crimson. "Kyoko-chan isn't my bride! Heavens, I don't even know if she likes me!"

"Since you never asked her..."

"For the simple reason that, every time I was alone with her, you or some other homicidal maniac barged in! And those times were few and far between before she went to ninja boot camp."

"And that still doesn't tell you if she likes you? Moron. Which reminds me: Giannini begs your pardon. The last days he was too busy re-laying all damaged cables in the foyer and searching for more hidden bursting charges, so he forgot about the hunt for clues. Just now he confirmed the location of Gokudera's cell phone."

o-o-o

A mafia boss, even an unwilling one, cannot do otherwise than learning quite a bit about prioritizing. So Vongola Decimo, having lost no time with ranting or other useless things, drove his car into the small town a little less than half an hour later. On the passenger seat, Reborn held a beeping device that led them straight to a picturesque town square. After parking and leaving the car, it took them another minute to discover the second Vongola vehicle by the roadside – deserted for a few days, by the amount of road dust that covered it.

Tsuna reached for the handle of the passenger door, when his ex-tutor stopped him.

"You really want to just open that door? Don't you think it's puzzling that it's visibly not locked? Sure, it doesn't look rigged, but that spells 'trap' for me. Remember how he left."

"No. Gokudera-kun lashed out when cornered, but he had half an hour travel time to cool down. However much hurt and betrayal he felt, he wouldn't leave such a random trap behind. For me that's a matter of trust."

With these words the door was opened to reveal... nothing much, really. Led by Giannini's device, they found the cell phone within the upholstery of the back seat – still powered, so the message on the display was readable: 'If you know what's good for you, STAY AWAY!' Every bit of data had been erased. No other personal article was to be found. Things of personal interest on the other hand...

"Reborn, let's visit that library over there!"

o-o-o

An exhaustive quarter-hour later, both mafiosi left the vault of wisdom almost empty-handed. The librarian was a curvaceous Italian woman in her early thirties, easily identified as a Gokudera-fan who still had to find the club house. On and on she went about how sad it was that this nice young man (_"Such a pleasant patron – polite, quiet, well-read... And his way to discipline noisemakers – matchless!"_) had bid them all farewell to leave for his sabbatical in Algeria. With a dramatic gesture she pointed at the minimum security lockers. _"Compartment ten seems strange, now that he took his backpack out of it and returned the key. Oh, normally we don't allow our __users __to deposit their stuff for extended periods of time __or__ out of the opening hours, but since he always was so helpful and all..."_

Back at the car, the black haired hitman had a stretch. "You didn't think it was gonna be that easy, did you?"

"You know, for a second there, yeah, I kinda did. But perhaps it's for the best. Sure, I want Gokudera-kun back, as fast as possible; but I couldn't expect him to keep going on under the same old circumstances. So we have to change some things around here first for an acceptable environment. Yamamoto needs to understand that ignoring something unpleasant doesn't solve anything - it only blinds him; that it is the same as running away, only he happens to run away in his head. And you will show at least some professional respect - by apologising when we have found him!"

For once, words failed Reborn, and it was Tsuna who took pity on him and changed the subject.

"At least we've found the emergency kit, or its former storage location. Of course, there was nothing left in the compartment, no clues at all. But this story about Algeria... Is that an obvious red herring that we are safe to ignore, or does he expect us to ignore it, which would make it a real hint? Hm, and the car. An expensive car, unlocked, key in the ignition – why did he leave it like that?"

"That's easy: Because he wanted it to be stolen, so the cell would randomly mislead us via any detection device Giannini would have come up with."

"And why is it still here?"

"_Alms to the poor, gentlemen?"_

Tsuna spun around to face the inquirer. He saw (and smelled!) a hunched old man with unkempt white hair, dressed in rags. The bandages around his held out, apparently arthritic finger were dun-coloured and his left eye was clouded by a cataract. A veritably pitiful sight, and the young man almost would have reached for his wallet, when his former tutor cleared his throat.

"_Decimo?"_

'Is this something official? So, what is wrong with the picture? Picture, yes – he looks false and I feel like I know him. What beggars do I know? Ah!'

Reborn continued in Italian, _"You do remember-"_

"_Signore Prospero, the current King of the local beggar's guild. Of course. How could I forget?"_

How indeed - when the man presented to him during the first social gathering at the mansion did look completely different?!

This particular guest had been a suave, healthy, eminently suited man in his mid-forties, introduced by Reborn as a most valuable business associate. It seemed that the beggar's guild was an important network for trading information, as its members were almost everywhere, ignored by almost everybody and, like their King, masters of disguise.

'Oh-oh… since when had he been standing there? Did we reveal anything concerning Gokudera-kun's disappearance? We spoke Japanese, but were there any tell-tale signals?' While frenziedly replaying the last few minutes, Tsuna sought refuge in small talk.

"_It's good to see you again. How do you do?"_

"_Oh, really bad! I've lost my job, my wife died and I have to feed our seven children, those poor half-orphans. Give some pittance, sir!" _The beggar's King then grinned broadly. _"Enough of the formalities. Nice to meet you, Vongola Decimo, Signore Reborn. I was just attending to business in front of the church when one of my boys came running, reporting that the Vongola arrived to claim their missing car."_

Something like "You knew we were missing this car all along?" would have sounded too stupid, so Tsuna only replied, _"Oh?"_

"_You seem to wonder why it was not filched. And the answer to your question will be… oh, a gratis sample for once, because it's too simple. Nobody would steal anything Smokin' Bomb Hayato placed here for two reasons. He… __insistently__ commands everybody's respect for his boss and family since you all arrived, and he had dwelled around here for a while when he was a youth, burning himself into all our minds. Good Lord, all those home-brewed booby traps he used for securing his food, stuff and sleeping-places! Did you visit Pompeii already? That was him – anything else is just a tale made up by the tourist bureau, complete with forged age determination."_ Prospero burst out in a hearty laugh to which Tsuna self-consciously joined in. _"So we kept an eye on the car and shooed some newcomers away. The fee for several parking attendants would be…"_

o-o-o

[About the same time. Some other country]

When Gokudera noticed the door between waiting area and premises open, he took a deep, calming breath and slapped on the idiot smile, which saved him such a lot of dynamite. His first real job interview ever lay ahead, but he felt well prepared. The proprietor was a French citizen – no problem, one of his own fake ID's and the knowledge of that language would let him pass as one too. His aptitude for the job was beyond argument. As for the competition…

"Good morning! Now, would the first of the applicants please follow-... Say, weren't there some more candidates in here just before?" The blond, athletic man standing in the doorway – and indeed talking French - looked confused.

Gokudera rose from his chair and stated, still smiling, "Oh, we all had a chat while waiting and it became apparent that none of the others really thought that this job was… to die for." 'Eat your heart out, Mary Poppins!'

"What a shame! But maybe you'll turn out to be our ideal candidate – shall we?" With this, the ideal candidate (at his own discretion) was led to the next room by his employer-to-be. Inside was a young woman waiting at a round table, sitting on one of three chairs. While both men approached her, Gokudera took a closer look at the two.

The man was in his late twenties and had the unmistakable build of a sportsman, comparable with Ryohei's; so his discipline probably was boxing or something similar, like wrestling. He was taller than the lawn head, perhaps by a handbreadth, and had a shock of short, blond locks and nougat coloured eyes. A rare combination that qualified him as a chick magnet. ('Conclusion: Don't even think about it!')

The woman was about 23, perhaps 24. She had black, straight hair that she wore in a plain bun and only a little makeup, just enough to accentuate her slate blue eyes. She had a slight figure and seemed to be shorter than Gokudera by five centimetres at most. ('Goes for simple elegance. Classy and purposeful. It's obvious who does the bookkeeping.')

When all sat around the table the blond began with the introductions, "My name is Guillaume, and this is my partner, Corinne. While we both own this place fifty-fifty, she is the one you'd be working with. My job is to canvass the right customers and to keep out the wrong ones. And your name...?"

"Gauch. Bao Gauch."

"Bao? What an interesting first name." The question behind the remark was unmistakable.

"You see, my maternal grandmother was Chinese. She insisted." He had a long, detailed story up his sleeve, in case someone was curious about the Asian element in his French family tree. But he decided to wait for the question first, since long, unrequested explanations could lead to dangerous places.

Corinne seemed to be interested, but Guillaume continued, "So, Bao, tell us why you apply for this job. What qualifies you more than anyone else?"

Some minutes of mandatory self-praise later...

"...in short, most European languages, additionally Japanese and Chinese, of course. Russian isn't my strong suit; I just started learning, for the market value is booming. This will benefit your basic business strategy to gain a widely varied clientele. Oh, as for this really decorative piano over there, I can double as piano player when business is slow."

Corinne's eyes stayed at her note pad; it looked like she was checking all these stated points to decide which of them were important enough to verify. Guillaume on the other hand cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Actually, the piano is a heritage I couldn't yet store away. Okay, those are your additional qualifications. Would it be alright with you if I asked you some questions concerning the relevant skills?"

Goku-, no, Bao made sure that his smile never wavered, in spite of stupid rhetorical questions, and nodded.

"Fine. What was your point bonuses total in the respective editions of 'Duke Nukem'?"

"Come again?" The smile drooped a little as frenzied thoughts flashed through his mind. 'I never played any of those. What kind of question is that?! Most likely a personality test. What would my answer say about me? Games like solitaire and cubis: asocial and uncreative. Tomb Raider: stares at women's arses for too long. Super Mario: infantile-'

His train of thought was interrupted by a roar of laughter. "So sorry! Say, didn't you wish as a kid that some job interviewer would ask for that instead of school grades? But seriously, what was your last line of work?"

A quick look at a twitching female brow confirmed his conclusion. 'Fuck, no! Another amicable idiot jock! How could I have overlooked the laughter lines? Okay, let's see if he's just as bad as the other idiot... s.'

One deep breath and the smile was back full force. "I was _Capo_ in a mafia family, quit just this week due to personal differences and need this job to go into hiding."

And indeed, more laughter followed. "Hahaha, you're funny – I like your sense of humour!"

Obviously Corinne had decided to steer this conversation back to what was important. For the first time, she rose to speak.

"We were just beginning to talk about job-related skills, I think. Bao, how are your experiences with these: Backdraft?"

"Nasty, but sometimes inevitable."

"Car Bomb?"

"Makes a filthy mess, but if it makes the customer happy..."

"Earthquake?"

"Never made one, but I know how to."

"Okay, show me!" She pointed to the wall on the back of the large room, where unhealthy substances were stored by the meter, along with receptacles to manufacture them.

"Coming up!" It figured that she would choose the one he showed uncertainty about. Go-, Bao walked to the shelves and took a moment to orientate himself. Then he chose three of the flasks and poured parts of their contents together with a steady hand, precise without even needing to use any measuring vessel. All the while the woman's critical eyes were watching him. When he presented the result, she examined it and finally smiled.

"I don't have to give it a trial to see it's perfectly done. Before we hire you I have one last question: You don't smoke, do you? In here you're, naturally, not allowed to, but even-"

"Don't worry, I quit smoking two months ago. Since then I've touched no cigarette, not once, and now I can't stand the smell myself."

She still wasn't satisfied. "Two months? That's not too long ago. Why wouldn't you restart next week?"

'Okay, ask me to lay bare my soul, will you?' But on the other hand, wasn't it the soul of Gokudera Hayato, who did no longer exist? So what harm would the truth do? They would get to know him eventually, one way or the other, and what better time than the present? 'Bao' let the smile fade away, because it wouldn't go with honesty.

"Because it is self-destructive and derogates everyone around me. Or in a nutshell: Smoking is the best way to keep people away. It took me a while to see this, but then I decided that I don't want this any longer. And don't ask me about this 'Kissing a smoker is like licking an ashtray'-patter! Let me assure you that I won't start again. Someone is either a smoker or a non-smoker. There's no in-between. The trick is to find out which one you are, and be that. I'm a non-smoker, since I want to have a life, possibly with people in it."

Apparently these words reminded Guillaume of something.

"As for the people in your life, and you working with Corinne-"

His aforementioned partner rolled her eyes, telling 'Bao' all he needed to know.

"I know, 'Paws Off!'. No need to worry, for both of you. I never flirt with the boss, on principle. Especially when they're the little sisters of jocks."

Both siblings were taken aback for a second. Then the 'little sister' wanted to know, "How did you figure it out? Most people say there's barely any resemblance."

"Your external ears – they are very much alike."

Of course, they could have been cousins just as well, but the little gamble had paid off. These were the bonus points that counted! And the total number obviously was sufficient: After a silent exchange with her brother, Corinne took an employment contract out of her briefcase. Conditions and wages were adequate, some minor matters were sorted out and at last everybody signed the form.

For the additional promise to help Corinne with her Italian (these correspondence courses never made up for a conversation partner), she even procured a nice, ready-furnished apartment let by her aunt. Family business at its best.

o-o-o

Late this night, while Bao Gauch was satisfactorily provided with money, food, shelter and some conveniences and had every reason to be sound asleep, Gokudera Hayato was wide awake for several reasons.

The most important reason was his blossoming loathing for this 'Bao'-person, that had evidently decided to become his new inner voice – harder to ignore and more self-important than ever.

Earlier Hayato had removed all his rings for good; firstly because they were a Gokudera-thing and secondly because on the job there must be no possibility to harbour contaminative residues on his hands. While contemplating ear piercings as an offset, his thoughts had been interrupted by Bao who replayed an important memory to every single ring - in other words: memories of his former family.

When Hayato had reasoned that he forwent family once before, and that this was just another withdrawal he could manage, like smoking, Bao had only replied, 'Sure, since your Yamamoto-withdrawal worked so well'.

Hayato had argued that every withdrawal just needed time (some more than others) and persistent abstinence to purge the system, and Bao wanted to know what purging exactly that kiss was meant to do.

'Ah, yes, the kiss I managed not to think about for a whole ten minutes – thank you very much, asshole!'

'Oh, be real! You tried other guys as surrogate drug before you fessed up, and it didn't work. You tried the same after that disaster and surprise: Still didn't work. After his rejection you firmly believed that your pride alone would kill any feelings for him – wrong! When you finally noticed that this particular flame can't be quelled, you opted for letting it burn out, but guess what: That didn't work either. Okay, you persuaded yourself that it would in the near future – until you lost your head and kissed him. If it could have even been called a kiss. A relapse that put your withdrawal therapy back to square one. Why did you ever do that?!'

'I don't know, okay?! Perhaps I wanted to show my feelings to him just once, and in a way that hopefully wouldn't leave behind only disgust. Besides, that is solely the fault of this idiot's mouth – it's far too teasing. I mean, normally I'm not really into kissing...'

'…because you're orally disturbed, buddy; but that makes this thing only more significant, don't you think so too? Poison Cooking and cigarettes left their marks. Which reminds me: How may Bianchi be doing at the moment? Reborn? Still alive? Would you prefer to have left him dead, after that sadist's plan to pack the two of you together in a cabin? And what about the Tenth?'

'Fuck, weren't we done with that topic?'

'We'll be done when you are clean – might take you a while, judging by the Yamamoto-business. By the way, imagine two weeks alone with him in confined space, while he is avoiding you. Talk about incommunicado detention.'

At this point Hayato forcefully ended the conversation and started Fon's meditation (it had helped with the nicotine withdrawal after all). And now Bao really fought dirty by planting an earworm into their shared brain.

This otherwise nice lady that had picked him up hitchhiking had listened to this song on repeat, and who could concentrate on being free of thoughts with this damn accordion reverberating in his head, again and again?

_I've always run away_  
_From things that tie me down_  
_My life I love_  
_But love's not for me_

_I see my goal ahead_  
_With nothing in the way_  
_If love should come_  
_Then I'll run away_

_I've always been the type of man_  
_Who's dedicated to his cause_  
_And it's a lonely road I run_  
_But I'll stay faithful to my course_  
_There's only one direction_

_There comes a time when you must choose_  
_About the path you're gonna take_  
_And you must take it win or lose_  
_And if you lose it's your mistake_  
_There's only one direction_

_So when the race is won_  
_And there's nothing left to do_  
_Alone again but where are you_  
_Alone again but where are you_

ENOUGH ALREADY! He had been Gokudera Hayato for a very long time – even if he had lost his heart already, there was no way he would lose his brain to this newcomer Bao!

'Okay, calm down! Is there a way of counter-meditating these annoying resonances? What do I need to cancel out a song? Something with a different rhythm – some other song or poem. For which keyword should I look? Oblivion – to forget – something like that. Ah, found it.'

_Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer  
Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.  
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath sent thee  
Respite — respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore;  
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"  
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."_

Aaaaaah, it never failed. Poe's 'Raven' was the opus that first of all had awakened Hayato's interest in English lyric.

First there was that fascinating poetic structure: Eight trochaic feet per line, each foot having one stressed syllable followed by one unstressed syllable. With the rhyme scheme ABCBBB, in every stanza, the 'B' lines rhymed with the word 'nevermore' and were catalectic, placing extra emphasis on the final syllable. 'Hah, take that, you disruptive element of a disguise identity!'

'Oh, tell me about the second point of interest, please. Wasn't that...?'

'… the sheer stupidity of the narrator, yes. I mean, really! He knows full well that this damn bird can only croak this one word - "its only stock and store". So tell me, "genius", why do you have to ask questions like your life depended on the answer when you already know that this fucking idiotic raven can only give you that one particular answer that will break you?'

Before melancholy could take root, he swiftly held on to his irritation at the stupidity of the whole- the rest of the world. And thanks to that calmingly familiar emotion, Gokudera Hayato fell asleep at last.

* * *

**A/N:**

May contain traces (=quotes) of 'Kill Bill' and 'Dead Again' (the part about being a smoker or a nonsmoker). I'm terribly sorry - the Voices made me do it!

The song from 'Animalympics' on the other hand was my choice. Does anyone else see some parallels here?

Kunoichi: the term for a female ninja or practitioner of ninjutsu (ninpo). The term is thought to derive from the names of characters that resemble the three strokes in the kanji character for woman, said in the order they are written: ku - no - ichi.

Let me know what you think of it!


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